My little prince
by Mwood25
Summary: Instead of the Sheriff of Nottingham, what if Robin of Locksley had never met Marian and was brought to Queen Regina by Cora all those years ago? Regina never drank the potion that made her infertile, she instead found love and happiness with her soul mate. However, it's an elaborate set up by her mother to break her and bring forth the Evil Queen like we've never seen her before.


**AU: Instead of the Sheriff of Nottingham, what if Robin of Locksley had never met maid Marian and was brought to Queen Regina by Cora all those years ago. However, the whole thing is an elaborate set up by her mother to break her and bring forth the Evil Queen like we've never seen her before. Set in the enchanted forest.**

 **Regina never drank the potion that made her infertile, she was allowed to find love and happiness with her soul mate only so that Cora could rip it away from her when it would hurt the most. The story up to the point her mother brings the man with the lion tattoo to Regina in season 2 is the same, however, it was Robin who Cora brought to her not the Sheriff of Nottingham in disguise. Regina still married and killed the king, becoming queen. She still became evil while trying to kill Snow White but since finding her soul mate she's begun working on herself to become a better person for their expectant child, much like Regina on the real show did for Henry. But Cora has never truly had Regina's version of a happy ending as her goal. After all, her mother still needs her broken so that she can mold her into the Queen she wants her to be not the one she is becoming.**

 **Cora has manipulated an unknowing Robin into betraying Regina by tricking her into drinking the infertility potion while she is happily carrying their first child. Her mother has used Regina's love for the thief to take a child from her in a whole other way to how she did in the real OUAT show by framing her for Archie's murder in the hope of taking Henry away from her. Regina is completely unaware of her mothers actions and believes Robin to have purposefully caused their child's death by giving her the potion resulting in her miscarriage. This one-shot (possibly muli-chaper fic) is the first time Robin and Regina are in the same room together since it happened. How will they react? and can love really conqueror all?**

 **Trigger Warning: Implications of miscarriage, mild language and dark themes.**

 **Disclaimer: Inspired by OUAT, I do not own anything.**

 **This is also my first fic so please let me know what you think :)! All mistakes are my own!**

Losing a child, as these idiots would have her believe, isn't like having a tear in your heart that you can just sew up, pull together and allow to heal as if it never happened. No. Losing a child is like having a chunk of your heart dutifully torn from your chest, tearing and ripping your flesh leaving a gaping chasm in its wake. A void that is never able to fully heal. Never able to return to its previous state. It is only able to repair at the edges.

The pain she's left with is only a fraction less than that caused by the initial white-hot waves of pain that crashed uninvitedly into her life. It's an all-consuming pain that has relentlessly eroded a section of her heart. The feeling resembling that of being repeatedly stabbed by a sharp thick blade with no let up, no time to allow her to breathe, no time to console herself before the next stab is unmercifully thrust into her chest leaving behind a dark all-consuming hole.

So why can't he see that? Why can't any of the imbecilic people intent on not allowing her a single minute's piece simply understand that she is in pain, so much pain over her lost child that she just wants to be left the hell alone. And the last time she checked, incessantly knocking on her door sure as hell does not qualify as doing just that.

She doesn't want the sorrowful looks that are sent her way when one of the palace staff manages to catch an elusive glimpse of her when she quietly slides across the hall to the bathroom- the only reason she ever leaves the confines of her bed chamber these days. She doesn't want the sympathy or false looks of empathy because how could anybody possibly even begin to understand what it's like to have a crater as deep as this forever engraved into your already corrupted soul. A place where a love so pure and strong between mother and child had been so newly planted? A love that should have been allowed to prosper and grow to help heal the final remnants of her blackened heart but instead, it was cruelly fated to prematurely die, never even given the chance to blossom through life. Put simply- they can't. No one will ever fully understand her pain.

She's coping. Or so she tells herself she is but her painfully thin body, gaunt face and deep purple under eyes prove to be a point of contention.

It's been two weeks since _that day_ but her walls are still up. Built stronger and higher than ever before. Blocking everything out: the people, the swarm of emotions much too complex to place, but most importantly they're doing a damn good job at keeping out the near all-consuming hatred threatening to boil to the surface. She can not allow herself to fall into such a trap that a rage of hatred and revenge would pose. Not again- that much she has promised her lost little prince.

Instead she is left withdrawn within the small bubble she has created for herself, leaving her numb and void of her senses.

She quietly remains curled up on the floor, protectively cradling her abdomen in her arms as she slowly rocks to and fro in the corner of the dark room. Here she is safe. Alone. Alone she feels safe. Safe is away from the pitiful conversation he is so desperate to have with her. Her carefully constructed walls that seal within them all the anguish she feels most certainly can not withstand a conversation with anyone right now. Not with any of the idiots she knows to be waiting for her to emerge from her recluse, but particularly, her walls would not provide her heart with anymore protection than a glass case cracked and ready to shatter if she were to talk with _him_. A conversation of sure concern disguised from selfish intent to absolve the guilt he feels for the role played in the child's death. That conversation or any other for that matter holds no interest to her. No. For her child's death she will never forgive him.

She hasn't left the protection that their chamber has provided since the day it happened. The day that she wishes to wipe from memory and never ever have to relive. The day it felt like her whole world was quite literally ripped from her and she was tossed aside into some alternate reality. It haunts her. She barely eats. She barely moves. She barely sleeps. She's barely done anything but exist as an empty shell of a woman that once was, dare she say it, finally happy. Regina Mills had found her happy ending.

She internally soughs at the absurdity of the thought. How could she have been so stupid as to hope that was the case. The universe has it in for her, always has, always will. Of course, she wouldn't be so lucky to find and keep her happiness. Darkness is a part of her and villains don't get happy endings. Simple. As. That. However, she can't help but feel a longing at the memory of that feeling of happiness as it currently seems to, once again, reside a lifetime out of her reach.

Exhaustion at times had eventually won out, but not even her dreams have granted her with an escape from this hellish reality. Every time her body has relented into a fitful slumber she's awoken by plaguing images of that day and what could have been. Shrill gut wrenching screams had initially pierced the air almost like a never-ending symphony until even her own voice had been taken from her. Heart wrenching silent sobs followed the screams that fell from her lips for her lost child, for the what ifs and what could have been. These images proving to be the worst kind of torture. Streams of unchecked tears have carved endless tracks down her cheeks, now left salty and dry as her tear reserves have long since run out.

She was so angry. Angry at the world, angry at him and just angry at everything for tearing her child away from her far too soon. How could he? That son of a bitch took all the things she held dear to her and broke them. He broke all of them into tiny little pieces. Little shards that would drive one to the brink of insanity trying to piece back together, a task that would prove futile. She hates him. Never wants to set eyes on that man again. If he hasn't already, she thinks, that man will be her unhinging.

She hasn't been able to claw herself out of the state of utter despair and heartache she's been become buried under. Two weeks of endless tears and pain have left her running on empty and she's tired. Just so tired. Tired of the anger that morphed into pain that evolved into this state of emptiness. So when the eyes of the one person she loathes most in this world locate her sitting in the corner of the grand room with her back to the door, rich mahogany locks cascading down the back of the simple grey cotton nightdress, it is only a matter of time before the cracks at the very foundation of her walls are forced to crumble under their weight.

She didn't need to know who it was that had dared enter her chambers to approach her. She knew before they spoke. She knew exactly who it was from the shiver of cold hatred that ran down her spine. That and the fact that there was only one person to disturb her in her grieving state.

It was _him_.

A broken "hello Regina" quietly breaks the dead silence that lays heavy in the room. The usually melodic voice is hoarse and scratches at her ears suggestive of the hours previous he must have spent unyieldingly crying to his pitiful self.

She doesn't respond. Other than the slight tensing of her body at his words they seemingly fall on deaf ears.

Her mind is quiet, a scary quiet. She expected to be overcome with thoughts of rage, anger, hatred and utter betrayal when she was finally forced to face him, but instead she's been steered to a place of calm and tranquillity. Its disconcerting being in such a mellow state when she should be in a fit of pure rage, throwing all her anger at him with everything she has, however, her limbs feel unmovable as if every cell in her body is fixed into position, frozen in their tensed state. Her head, well it's as if there's a balloon slowly expanding causing the pressure to build in her skull until its verging on painful before deflating once again. Each cycle of this rhythmically in time with the blood that is pulsating around her body.

She's empty. Doesn't feel anything. The numbness she's perfected over the past two weeks is presenting itself to him in full force.

"Regina…" he tries again. The following voicing of "please" is almost lost to the heavy quiet of the room as it is no more than a broken whisper.

She can't reply. Can't bring herself to mutter a response as she remains cemented in place. His words seemingly unable to break through her minds barrier and bring her back out of her quiet subconscious.

His brows pinch in response to her as his troubled blue eyes bore into the back of her stone still figure. How can she not even turn to look at him? How can she just sit there?

"Regina" he repeats with a little more force this time but, yet again, nothing.

He is still standing by the heavy wooden doors across the large room from her. He closes them behind him as he takes a single step into the room. The crease between his thick brows deepening as his hand comes up to run through his short dusty blond hair before dragging it down over his face. This isn't fair, she must at least owe him a chance to explain this colossal mess. To tell her the lies and manipulations she has been subject to. He deserves that. He deserves at least that from her. If he truly meant anything to her he deserves to be heard out… but evidently it would seem as though he must have meant jack shit to her from the way she is just point blank refusing to even acknowledge his presence. She's shutting him out completely, unjustly if you ask him. He can feel the irritation start to build at her actions. It seems that old habits die hard with her but they need to talk about this.

"Dammit Regina you have to hear me out" he clips, this time loud enough to break through to her. Her head whips around at those words, a deathly glare on her face. If looks could kill, he would be buried six feet under by now while she no doubt had personally refilled and then begun dancing on his grave.

His face immediately morphs into one of shock upon seeing her. The moonlight coming through the balcony window casts an eerie glow over her paler than usual skin, almost giving her startlingly white flesh an ethereal glow. A harsh contrast to the deep-set eyes that sit swollen red, lying heavy with under eye bags in place of her usual heavy eye make-up. She's lost weight he notices. Her naturally slender figure taking on a harsher outline. The contour of her joints much more prominent, the shadows deeper, darker, harsher in appearance. The albeit baggy nightdress now swallowing her small body in fabric, exaggerating her petite form and frailties. Gone is any trace of the calming presence and loving nature of his queen.

"You have no right" she grounds out between her teeth. Her voice hoarse from lack of use and a shredded voice box. The look in her eyes is enough to freeze him in a state of terror. Looking into her soft brown eyes he is only met with a stone-cold emptiness of the once Evil Queen. This is bad.

He has broken through her soft reserve and now she can really begin to feel all that her mind had suppressed. She can feel that calm tranquility slowly edging away as it makes room for something more sinister to trickle through her veins. White hot anger begins to course through her body, acting as a drug much more potent than any before. She can tell he's completely taken aback by her reply. She sounds like a foreign entity has come to possess her body, and to be honest it feels very much like it has. Despite her blood-stained history and tragic past, shockingly she's never once in her life felt this much unadulterated hatred in one moment for a another human being. Only once prior in her life will she admit to the hatred of another almost reaching this level. But now, she's practically vibrating with these dangerous emotions. Those monstrous yet safe, familiar feelings she's worked so hard on taming have evidently only ever taken to residing deep within her for now they are rearing their head. The beast is ready to reawaken and rise in all its glory, ready to embark with her on her journey down the next road of rage and vengeance. And that, that is when her walls come crashing down.

"You have no right to demand anything from me" she snarls, lip lifting slightly on one side. Her voice low and dangerous in tone. Without preamble or warning she uses her magic to propel herself across the room and lunges at him. Nails outstretches and catching onto whatever flesh she can manage to tear at.

" _YOU_ already stole _EVERYTHING_ I have".

He takes a hit to the left cheek.

"You have no right to demand _ANYTHING_ from me".

Her other arm swings catching him a hairs width away from his right eye. He can feel her body start convulsing in time with the shaky breaths coming from her.

" _YOU_ stole it _all_. I have nothing else to give. Nothing… you- you bastard…absolute bastard… you… you utt-utter… you stole it all from…". The rest of her sentence is illegible. Lost amongst her sobs and unsteady breaths that sound like she's trying to suck in all the air from the room to stop herself hyperventilating as she continues to blindly swing her fists at him.

He manages to catch her off guard and wrap his arms around her, holding her body against his chest in an attempt to stop her determined claws lashing out again. She tries to fight and wriggle free but then she sees that blasted thing again. Catches it out of the corner of her eye. And just like that it's as if he's given her a hard slap to the face and simultaneously thrust a knife into her heart.

It's his lion tattoo.

It's too much for her mind to deal with. An emotional overload that she no longer has the strength or fight to conqueror. In a split second that anger in overcome by a tidal wave of an old familiar emotion. Pain. Her body and face begin to contort in an ungodly manner as the emotions come crashing down on her. Her heaving body eventually crumbling to the ground in silence.

Never before has Regina Mills looked as broken in body as she has been in mind. Not until now. And as her body gives into the dark unconscious, her self-depreciating mind can't help but think that she should have headed her mother's advice.

"Love is weakness Regina".


End file.
